


The Burnt Bridge Holding Back a Damn

by AmateurScribes



Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Character Swap, Blood and Violence, Eye Trauma, Gen, Graphic Description, Mercenaries, Prompt Fic, Stab Wound, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-28 02:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20959106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmateurScribes/pseuds/AmateurScribes
Summary: Life doesn't work out the way anyone expects, and sometimes people just get the worst end of the deal.Sometimes Simmons wonders what could have been done differently, anything that could have changed the way that his life ended up going, in a career that he never wanted.





	The Burnt Bridge Holding Back a Damn

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, I had a lot of fun with this one, and somehow it just seems like these past few fics have been Simmons focused so might as well add another one in. Hope you guys enjoy!
> 
> For the duration of this event, all mistakes are my own.

His father had never really had high hopes for him, but sometimes Simmons wonders if he ever foresaw the career that he was in at the moment.

He had gone to school for accounting, but his father had wanted him to be a lawyer. 

And yet somehow he had ended up becoming a mercenary.

Yes, his father would definitely have never expected this.

Reaching up to his headpiece, he speaks into it, "Agent Orange, what's your status?"

The sound of Grif's voice filled his ear as he got up and moved closer to Donut who was looking through his sniper rifle, "All clear here. Ready when you guys are."

"Got it," he reaffirmed. Looking at Donut, he asked, "How's it looking?"

"The target has brought a girl into the room," Donut noted before clicking his tongue. "And he could  _ not _ have worse taste, is she seriously wearing  _ that _ dress with those shoes? To think that she went  _ out _ like that."

Holding back his annoyance, he snapped, "Focus, Agent Pink-"

"Um, last I checked, I was going as Double-O-Donut," the other man pulled away from the scope to glare at him. 

"Ok, first of all, we never agreed to that," Simmons stomped his foot into the ground.  _ "Second _ of all, why the fuck would we let you go around using your real name- that's a liability!"

Donut was silent for a moment, likely trying to think of a retort, but all he managed to say was, "At least it  _ sounds _ cool."

"Who  _ cares _ what it sounds like- it's all about practicality!" He brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You know what, we're having this conversation later. I'm trusting you know when to take the shot."

"Leave it to me, chief!" Donut went back to focusing on the target. "I'm going to wait for him to leave the unfashionable girl alone."

Satisfied that Donut was doing his part, Simmons went back to where he had set up his equipment. It was all things that could be grabbed if they had to rush away, but they were all important to the operation. He checked once more to make sure that all the cameras were down, and then checked the security feed to make sure that there weren't any guards in the vicinity. 

So far everything seemed to be going just as planned.

"I have the shot," Donut muttered, finger tightening around the trigger in anticipation. "I'm going for it."

"Orange, how're things on your end?" Simmons asked, snapping his laptop closed, not wanting to waste any time before the target went down.

"Things are good so far, wait-" Grif went quiet for a second. "I'm going to check things out really quickly, but I'll settle on being ready to go whenever."

A worried sense of anxiety forming at the hesitant words, Simmons insisted, "Get back to me so that I know you're good."

He didn't get a response, but that was typical of Grif.

Donut didn't announce when he took the shot, he just pressed the trigger and the bullet whizzed through the air, shattering the window, and they were too far away to hear the sound of the body hitting the floor.

Knowing the procedure, Donut got up from his position, and Simmons followed him, having everything packed up.

"Agent Orange, we're heading towards your location, is everything alright?" Simmons asked into the headpiece. 

There wasn't any response.

"Agent Orange, please respond," he tried again. Nothing. "Grif-"

From where they were in the stairwell, they could hear two gunshots loud and clear, followed by a muffled scream.

Looking at each other, Simmons and Donut rushed down the staircase, pushing open the door to the alleyway between buildings, out of breath but looking for the source of the gunshots.

Nearby was the jeep that Grif was  _ supposed _ to be driving, but he was nowhere to be found.

Throwing his equipment into the back of it, Simmons rushed off in the general direction that he had heard the noises from, Donut staying behind to watch over the vehicle.

Turning towards a dead-end in the alleyway, he ran past two dead bodies and stopped just before running into the back of a third unknown man. 

On the other side, back against a wall, was Grif who had one hand pointed at the man, hand shaking as he struggled to keep it up. His other hand was occupied, too busy cradling the left side of his face, the handle of a knife peaking between his fingers.

Blood kept pouring from the wound, and although his gloves were black and he couldn't quite see it, Simmons just knew that it was drenched in the substance.

Something snapped in his head at the sight of the other man cornered like that, and it felt like he wasn't in control of his body as he hurried forward, knocking the other man off of his feet as he did so, rushing straight towards Grif's side.

_ "Grif!" _ he let slip from his mouth, and he should chide his lack of sticking to code names. 

His one revealed eye trailed to look at Simmons, but given the way that his pupil was dilating, Simmons could tell that he wasn't  _ really _ seeing him.

How could this have happened- who even where these people?

_ "Simmons," _ Grif muttered, voice weak, but managing to get the words out nonetheless.

Simmons wanted to ask who did this, but he knew who it was.

The man who was getting off of the ground had blood-stained hands.

And he was so angry- so unbelievable  _ furious. _

He's never felt this way before, never really had a loose grasp of his feelings.

Growing up, he always had to act dignified, couldn't show how his father's words hadn't crippled him emotionally. His emotions were locked uptight, and he just didn't know how to handle the flood that was trying to burst through the damn.

But he was sure of this- he wanted to make that man pay. Wanted to- he just fucking wanted to-

Reaching out he grabbed the handle lodged  _ in Grif's face _ and fucking  _ yanked _ it out.

Grif further howled in pain, but he ignored it for the way that he stalked towards the man.

The man seemed surprised, but disorientated from the fall he had taken, likely facing effects from his head knocking into the ground.

And that was exactly the only thing Simmons needed to lounge at him, gripping the knife, and stabbing him in the chest, pushing down against the handle, not caring at the way that the man had squirmed, hands flailing to remove his grasp, but he only  _ pushed harder. _

The force of this caused the man to collapse against the ground, and Simmons failed after him, pulling the knife out of his body with a wet squelch before inserting it right back in swiftly and fiercely. And again, he pulled it out only to jut it down back. And again and again and again-

The man had stopped moving a long time ago, and the blood had completely stained both his and Simmons' suits, the puddle growing beneath the corpse, but Simmons kept going-

In one final surge of fury, he brought up the knife one last time and brought it down upon the man right where he had  _ left it in Grif's face. _

He huffed, chest heaving as he stared down at the carnage that he had brought forth. It's the sound of a soft gasp, that get's him to look up.

Donut is staring down at him horrified, hands covering his mouth as his knees shook.

Simmons doesn't know why he looks that way, he had  _ just _ killed a man. What, just because that wasn't up close and personal, somehow he was  _ better than Simmons? _ More  _ human? _

The other man's hands lowered and they extended as if he wanted to touch Simmons before they returned back to his persons,  _ revolted with the thought of touching him- _

He rushed past him, going to Grif's aid, and Simmons turned around to see that at some point in his blind rage that the other man had collapsed onto the ground.

"Oh my God," the other man whispered. "Grif-"

"What are you doing," Simmons rasped, getting up off the ground. "Aren't going to help him?"

"You're getting mad at  _ me?" _ Donut whirled towards him. 

"You're just  _ standing _ there," he accused, moving towards Grif. "If you're not going to help him  _ get up _ at least, then go start the car. He can't drive like this."

"Is that all you can think about," Donut asked incredulously. "You can't- we need to get him to a hospital!"

"No, no hospitals, we can handle this if we just get him back to the base," Simmons dismissed, slipping his arm under Grif's, pulling him back up, struggling to support the heavier man. "Now, the car-"

"No," Donut said firmly.

"No?" Simmons blinked, shocked at what he was hearing. "What do you mean  _ 'no?'" _

"I mean," Donut took a deep breath and closed his eyes. "I'm not going with you, I can't- I can't do this anymore-"

It took a moment for Simmons to process what he was saying, but when he did it was like the fury was back and he snarled, "Are you kidding me?! The second it gets hard you just bail, don't you care-"

"Of course I care!" Donut yelled. "But can't you see what happened to Grif- his eye is practically gone, Simmons! You can't tell me you want to keep doing this?" 

"How is that even a question you have to ask? We don't have any other option," as far as he was aware, whatever money they made from these jobs, Grif sent back home to his sister. They lived together, only Donut had somewhere else to go at the end of the day, maybe Simmons should have seen this long ago.

"Well, I do," and Donut sounded pained as he said this. "I can't live like this. I'm sorry, I have to go-"

He turned away and fled, and Simmons would have been tempted to run after him,  _ hunt after him and make sure he couldn't tell anything that could endanger him and Grif- _

But he had more important things to do, as he dragged Grif's limp body towards the jeep.

He buckled in the other man, and he took a moment to observe the seriousness of his injury.

That man must have sliced at his face first before stabbing it, there was a long and ugly scar cutting across his cheek. But most of the blood was spurting out of the stab wound, and there was some truth in what Donut had said, about the eye-

Instead of turning on the car and driving off, Simmons clambered out and returned to the dead end, going back up to the body.

He grabbed the handle and yanked, he wanted to keep the knife as a reminder of this day. A reminder of his fury, of what had happened to Grif, and the casual way that Donut had just abandoned him.

Simmons would remember this day.

**Author's Note:**

> So in this AU, Grif, Simmons, and Donut were the Mercs, and later down the line it'd be revealed that Sarge was the Chairmen of Charon Industries. So I guess it's sorta like a role swap between the Reds and the Mercs? I don't know, I just had fun!
> 
> If you want to chat, you can find me at either of my Tumblr's: @agent-murica (main) and @amateurscribes (writing)!


End file.
